


Another Beginning

by Kingshammer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingshammer/pseuds/Kingshammer
Summary: A retelling of Jessica Drew's origin story. Because Carol Danvers has been there all along.





	Another Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Guys!! I was supposed to be doing homework!! This happened instead and I'm okay with it. I mean, I'm panicking about homework, still, but okay with this.
> 
> This is a slightly different take on Jessica Drew's origin story. There are spoilers for Spider-Woman: Origin (2005) and Avengers Annual #10 (1967). I play around with some of the Marvel timelines, mostly because I can. I like to think (and think it's confirmed somewhere) that the Black Widow had to earn her way into people's trust. Also, I love and hate Nick Fury's character. I own nothing in the way of copyright. (Also, because I'm slightly delirious at this point, wouldn't it be way more fun to call it "copywrite"?) 
> 
> TW: There are some non-con/rape references, however, nothing is explicit and all of them are actually mentioned in the previously mentioned comics.
> 
> Rating is for swear words and the TW.

Nick Fury’s words are like a drone in Jessica’s head. She’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore, she only knows that every word is another shotgun blast blowing apart, decimating, the image of a life she thought was hers.

And she needed him to _stop._

She shouted at him to shut his stupid mouth. She knew what this was. Discredit her current owners enough so she'd accept new ones. But no. No new owners.

She leapt away from the chair, and as quickly as she could manage; she was bolting away from SHIELD, away from Nick Fucking Fury.

She leapt from a shattered window and let the night air carry her away.

“What the fuck happened in here?” asks Carol when she walks into the war room. Agents are groaning, struggling to their feet. Fury scowls at her.

“Where the hell were you a few minutes ago? You could’ve had this handled.” Carol shook her head.

“I was listening and cringing at the doorway. Who beat the sensitivity out of you growing up? Or were you always so charming?” she asked, irritatingly nonchalant.

“Hydra has trained her to be a cold blooded killer. She needed a reality check, not sensitivity,” Fury responded. Carol shook her head, mouth downturned.

“Nick, she's nineteen years old and has exactly one worldview. She’s brainwashed,” Carol said.

“You think you’re so intuitive, you go bring her in,” Fury huffs.

“Deal. But don’t rush me. You want her, it has to be on her terms. Unless of course you want to treat her like you usually handle spiders,” Carol replied. There was sarcasm and disdain there and Fury's face hardened when he heard it.

“Agent Danvers, you’re dismissed,” Fury said. Carol’s heels clicked together and offered a perfect salute. And in complete contrast to the respect offered, turned heel and left without awaiting the return salute.

“Agent Woo,” Fury spoke into the communicator on his wrist as soon as Carol was out of sight. “You’re her shadow. Keep tabs on her. I want to see what she does next.”

/

Panic churned in Jessica's stomach.

For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to do, where to go. She couldn’t go back to Hydra. The video Fury had showed her was too real. And despite what they'd said, what they'd told her, she knew what they were, what they stood for, was wrong. And that meant everything she thought she knew, thought she believed in, was wrong too.

But Nick Fury was still the enemy unknown. He'd ripped the veil from her eyes but that didn’t make him her ally. He was just someone else trying to use her, control her. Just like everyone else.

When she became aware of her surroundings, she realized she was on the beach. She took deep, gulping breaths, letting the salt air assault her senses. Soon, harsh sobs wracked her body.

The fracturing of her reality left her incapacitated and so when she heard crunching footsteps in the nearby sand she could barely bring herself to care.

“Jessica?” asked a soft voice. Hearing her name brought a snarl to her face and she pulled back the hood of her suit. She turned and glared up at the tall blonde woman standing a few feet from her in the sand. She wore combat pants and boots, and a t-shirt covered with a jacket. The shoulders held the same eagle spread patch Fury’s had.

“Hasn’t Fury learned it’s going to take more than one of you fuckers to take me in?” she asked harshly. The woman chuckled.

“I’m not here to bring you in today, but if I were I guarantee I'm more than you can hope to handle,” replied the woman with a cocky smirk. Jessica jumped to her feet. She felt an irrational swell of satisfaction at seeing she was almost this woman's height.

“You’re no match for me,” Jessica snapped. She couldn't help it; her battered pride was all she had left. Hydra may have lied to her and SHIELD might want to use her, but her training with the Taskmaster was real.

“While I'd absolutely love to prove you wrong, that’s not why I’m here,” snapped the woman back. She didn’t relent an inch despite Jessica's intrusion into her personal space. Jessica just stared, an angry snarl on her face.

“I’m Carol. I work for SHIELD. Mostly,” Carol added, as though the after thought were a recent development.

“So Nick Fury did send you to get me,” Jessica accused.

“He did, but like I said, I’m not here to do that today. And I think he knows that,” Carol replied, the effort at patience betrayed in her voice.

“Then what could you possibly want from me?” asked Jessica wearily.

“To talk for a minute. And give you some stuff,” said Carol. Her tone was casual and light, as though they were acquaintances who often met like this.

“And what if I told you I don’t want to talk?” Jessica asked. Carol shrugged a shoulder.

“Well maybe you can just listen a little bit then. Jessica, I’m not here to fuck up your life even more. And I'm not a supporter of what just happened in there. If I wanted to stop you leaving I'd have done it in the base, not waited until we were out here,” Carol reasoned. Her eyes, flashing blue in the moonlight, we’re earnest. Jessica stared at them before relaxing her body just a fraction.

“First, I’m sorry you had to find out about Hydra that way. I’m familiar with your file. That’s a lot to take in out of nowhere. I don’t think it was particularly fair to you,” Carol said. Jessica scoffed with a sad sardonic smile.

“And how would you have done it?” she asked, expression betraying the hurt at her world’s crumbling away.

“I would’ve gone after you a long time ago. You never deserved to belong to anyone but yourself. I wouldn’t have waited for you to come to me,” Carol said firmly. And Jessica found she believed her. And unanticipated comfort tugged at a knot in her chest.

“I don’t know who I am or what I'm going to do,” Jessica admitted, voice choked and breaking.

“The beauty there is you get to decide that for yourself for once,” Carol said with a half smile. Jessica glanced up at her.

“Don't get me wrong. Personal opinion, I think SHIELD could really benefit from having you. And I can promise that despite the fact Nick Fury has the bedside manner of sandpaper, we really are in the business of helping people and protecting them. But if you come in, I think it should be because you want to. Don't let anyone tell you who you are. You get to decide that. In fact, and I'm sure I'll catch shit for saying it, but I hope you don't come in right now,” Carol said sincerely.

“You're really terrible at target acquisition, you know that right?” Jessica quipped back. Carol laughed, a pure, unbridled sound.

“Well subtly isn't my thing really,” Carol replied.

“And what is your thing?” Jessica asked before she could help herself.

“Me? Oh, I love to fly,” Carol said with a wide smile and a glance up at the brilliant night sky. Her enthusiasm at the prospect was genuine, Jessica couldn't help a small smile of her own.

“So what do I do now?” asked Jessica. Carol's eyes came back to hers.

“Jessica, you do whatever you want,” and Jessica felt her heart swell with the prospect, not with dread but with hope. Carol pulled a backpack from her shoulder and extended it to Jessica.

“Although, I do recommend a change of clothes be near the top of the list. This is mine, not anything from Fury, to help you start on your feet. You can’t exactly run around unnoticed in a yellow and red jump suit,” Carol said, and Jessica scowled a little. She took the bag and risked a peak inside. Clothes, all neutral colors. Something that maybe was cash at the bottom of the bag. Some other items she couldn’t identify in the dark.

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me,” asked Jessica. Carol shrugged a little and sighed.

“I've not gone through what you have. I’m where I’m at because of a strange combination of stubbornness and timing, not because anyone forced me into anything. But I know what starting out on my own without any support feels like. Everyone deserves to have someone in their corner, Jessica Drew,” Carol replied. She smiled at Jessica, her expression void of pity and full of understanding. Jessica stared at her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice tight.

“Don't say anything. Get out of here. SHIELD will try to follow you. Don't let them. Go figure out who Jessica Drew is. I for one am excited to find out,” said Carol with a soft smile. Jessica felt herself return it.

“Go. I want to see their faces when they realize tracking you is a waste of time,” Carol said. Jessica's smile turned into a smirk.

“I'll see you again,” she said, turning heel and sprinting into the darkness.

“I certainly hope so,” Carol said with a smile.

/

“You _helped_ her get away?! Are you insane? She’s a Hydra agent!” shouted Nick Fury. It was three hours after Jessica had ghosted his agents.

“And that's exactly why I did it. Your attitude Nick,” Carol said angrily.

“Me? My attitude? I should have you court martialed! I'm trying to protect people Agent Danvers or have you forgotten that's what you signed up for?” Carol jumped to her feet, treading onto a warpath.

“Don't you fucking _dare_ imply that I've ever done anything in my professional life that didn't involve protecting people,” she snarled. Fury could feel the temperature in the room rising and held out placating hands to Carol.

“Fine. That was uncalled for,” he said in a softer tone. Carol settled back down in her chair. She’d known Nick Fury long enough to know that waiting on an actual apology would be a waste of time.

“I just can't understand why you'd allow someone so useful and dangerous to get away,” he said.

“Because, Nick, you have a tendency to keep useful, dangerous people as unofficial prisoners of SHIELD,” retorted Carol. “Or do you forget about the Black Widow when you don’t have an assignment for her?” Carol asked. Fury's face contorted into a snarl.

“She's the Black fuckin’ Widow. A deadly assassin with a ledger of confirmed kills as long as my arm! She is the most capable assassin in the world!” He shouted back.

“She's a woman! And not your prisoner. Yet you keep her under lock and key like she’s a vicious dog unless you need her. She came in on her own choice and you treat her like the enemy. How many more will you make her kill before she’s proven she'll only do it for you? And what if she doesn’t want to kill anymore? Is she useless then? Do you get your most recent pet to kill her when she becomes expendable to you?”

“You're fucking out of line, Agent!”

“And you’re fucking delusional. Super humans aren’t weapons, they’re people. But if you keep treating them like things, they’re going to break one day. I will _not_ help you bring in former adversaries into the fold only to continue to treat them like the enemy. You’ve got to start showing trust somewhere Nick,” Carol was seething, breathing heavily out her nostrils.

“Is that it Agent Danvers?” Fury asked, quietly scowling. Carol stood back up.

“It is. I'll be out of pocket for awhile. You'll see from the paperwork I was supposed to be gone yesterday,” Carol said, cool professionalism back in place.

“Then why pray-tell are you still here?” he growled back. Carol smirked at him.

“Because I had a feeling I'd be more useful here today. Director Fury,” she said, saluting perfectly. This time she did wait for his response, albeit it was a dismissive flick of the wrist.

“Get the hell gone,” he said.

Nick Fury sat at the table a long time, lost in thought, when quiet footsteps echoed into the war room.

“Director Fury? We've completed the strip down and are ready to proceed back to the helicarrier.” Fury cast his eye over at the new comer.

“Thank you Agent Hill. When we arrive back to the ship, I want you to arrange a meeting with Agent Romanoff,” he said, moving toward the agent.

“Are there any assignment briefings I should prepare beforehand sir? A tracking for Jessica Drew?” she asked. Fury chafed; he only ever called for the Widow when work needed doing. He hated proving Carol right.

“Not today. I just need to speak with her. Present yourself as well,” he replied. Maria Hill snapped to attention and rendered a perfect salute.

/

The club music had a screaming bass that seemed to take over Jessica's own heart beat. The dancers moved as one, caught up in the alcohol and the moment.

Her dance partner is in love with her, he proposes. She represses a smirk. As if he were the first. She quips back. Lets just dance she insists instead. She really doesn’t know his name.

“I bet you know my name,” comes a voice as cold and hard as arctic ice. Jessica's blood freezes and she turns.

And there he is. Exactly the same as she remembered, as her nightmares never let her forget. Why had she never noticed how dead his eyes looked?

“I like the hair,” he sneers.

“Don’t” is all she manages before her knuckles collide with her face. Her head snaps back and she hits the ground, venom blast going wild.

I probably earned that one, she muses to herself. She did let him find her and he was bound to be angry.

She turns and blasts him with venom. And he just stands there, taunting her. Well shit.

She's glad to notice the club’s emptied out. She’s less glad when she realizes just how many Hyrda agents are standing by with weapons. Jared's talking, and Jessica wants the monologuing to just _stop._ It’s not her fault Hydra economized on his being a perverted son of a bitch. Blaming Hydra's orders to seduce a teenager with the mind of a seven year old doesn’t make you not a budding sex offender.

She thinks about explaining that he only has himself to blame for his disgust, but he shoves the gun into her cheek, pulling her up by the back of her head. Now she has a new problem. Easily solved.

Jessica grins as she feels Jared's right arm break against hers at the elbow. His trigger pull is too slow to dismantle her pretty face and the perfect speed for slamming a bullet into a Hydra agent's side.

She pulls Jared to her chest, a mockery of every embrace they ever shared.

“Come on! Come on!” she snarls at the surrounding agents. She’s not afraid to die, not if she gets to take her “boyfriend” with her. Just like Romeo and Juliet. Or so she’s heard. The plot goes something like that.

They won’t pull. So fine. Jared becomes a bowling ball and she’s out the window onto the street.

“Is this what I taught you? To run and hide like a girl?” The Taskmaster's voice is like the rattling of dry leaves at the end of autumn. Dead and brittle. Jessica suppresses a shudder.

She wants to scoff at his words. “like a girl?” what century did he step out of? Has he even watched the news? The Scarlet Witch and Ororo Monroe and the Black Widow and Ms. Marvel were girls, they didn’t cut and run. She just knew strength in numbers when she saw it and occasionally demonstrated flares of common sense.

And she was tired of Hydra trying to make her a murderer.

For a second, he’s a wolf head and she hates the surge of uncertainty. She hates that they’ve messed with her mind, violated her so completely. She'll kill them all.

Taskmaster lunges, she defends. She strikes back. He slices into her arm, she hits back. His sword is her sword.

He sprints forward. He knows she brought a knife to a gunfight. His knife.

And it’s his knife impaling him. His face would show disbelief if it could show anything.

“I dreamt of this,” she says, hard green eyes boring into his.

“Kill them. Kill them both,” orders Jared Gold.

Jessica screams and forces the venom blast into the sword and out the Taskmaster's useless body.

They go down. Every last fucker drops.

And when the crackle of electrical current clears, Jessica drops too, sinking to her knees. She lets the sword drop too. Its not hers anyways.

An impressed whistle pierces the air, forcing Jessica's head to snap up.

And because, as it turns out, she’s only human, the first thing she notices are legs. Legs for miles, legs for days. Legs clad in thigh high boots, boots that are the perfect cradle for perfect calves, boots that mercifully stop to reveal skin and hips and a black leotard. And a lightening bolt.

Slowly, so slowly, she drags her eyes up to meet another pair. Those blue eyes shine with _knowing_ and the smirk on the face says she might as well be a mind reader. Not that Jessica's gawking did anything to conceal her thoughts.

Jessica did manage to recover though, when she felt the tear slide down and off her cheek. That’s right. Group electrotherapy. She cleared her throat.

“I was just thinking of you,” she told the woman in front of her. That sounded too familiar, like they knew each other. “He,” she pointed to her dead teacher, “said girls run and hide. Your name popped up among several whose names didn’t fit the bill.”

Ms. Marvel wove around the bodies and nudged an unconscious Jared with her boot none too gently.

“That’s probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me,” she replied. “What're you going to do with them?”

Jessica glanced about her, then back up at Ms. Marvel.

“They flew here. Landed on a private airstrip. I was thinking the hospitable thing to do would be to load them up and send them home. That’s their van there. Is there any point in asking why you’re here?” she said gesturing to the parked vehicle.

“The why is easy, I heard you’d surfaced. I wanted to check in, see how you were doing. Excellently it turns out, aside from the bleeding. You gotta stop doing that. And that’s nice of you, by the way, returning them,” Ms. Marvel replied. She stooped and easily tossed three men over her shoulder, strode to the van, opened the back, and tossed them in. She repeated the actions. It was on her third circuit when Jessica asked, “what are you doing?”

Ms. Marvel glanced up in mild surprise.

“Well helping. There’s a lot of them and you look a little tuckered out,” she said. That drove Jessica to her feet.

“I am _not,”_ she swayed, grabbed her head, shook it, then slowly opened her eyes and pointed at Carol, “Not tuckered out.” Carol laughed, an enchanting, full sound, and in record time had the agents and the Taskmaster loaded up.

“Shall we?” she asked Jessica, before climbing into the driver's seat. Jessica grumbled but climbed in shotgun.

At the air strip, Ms. Marvel sat Jessica down and placed a first aid kit next to her.

“I don’t have time for this,” Jessica protested. Ms. Marvel laid a warm hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got all the time in the world,” she said firmly. Jessica sighed. Carefully, Ms. Marvel wiped Jessica's face clean.

“Nose looks unbroken. This,” she said pointing to Jessica's left arm, “needs stitches. Sit very, very still. It might sting a little.” Jessica snorted in laughter but winced when the first suture went in.

“So, have you ever flown a plane?” asked Carol conversationally.

“I get the general concept,” replied Jessica evasively. Carol snorted.

“What was your plan then, for landing it?” Jessica was silent, staring over Ms. Marvel's shoulder, face hard.

“I thought so,” said Mr. Marvel. She finished her work and slapped a bandage on Jessica's arm hard enough to make her jump and yelp.

“What in the ever loving fuck was that for? That hurt,” she gasped.

“Yes, exactly. I didn’t go through all that work for you to waste it. So I’ll fly the plane. I’ll even put it on autopilot when the time is right,” she said. She was angry, but kept the full brunt tamped down. Jessica shook her head and retreated to the storage closet where she'd stored her bag.

Moments later, she emerged, clad in yellow and red, her mane of black hair freely cascading around her face. Carol whistled again.

“Now that’s a look,” she said. Jessica smirked, pleased at the reaction. “Not that I minded the little black number mind you.”

“You’ve got the little black number department covered I think. Well, sort of. What was the point of the swimsuit if you were going to cover your arms and legs up anyway?” Jessica asked, striding onto the plane. They’d driven the van into the cargo hold. Jessica extracted Jared and fastened him to a chair, making sure the rope was uncomfortably tight.

“Oh, the little bit of skin is all for sparking the imagination,” Ms. Marvel said casually as she strode past into the cockpit. Jessica pointedly did not notice the extra twitch of Ms. Marvel's hips. No noticing whatsoever. She licked her lips.

“Mission accomplished in that regard, lovely,” Jessica muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” called Ms. Marvel.

“He's all tied up,” Jessica responded, joining her at the helm.

They were quiet for a time as Ms. Marvel pointed the plane in the correct direction.

“So is today the day?” asked Jessica. Ms. Marvel glanced over, unsure of Jessica's meaning.

“The day you bring me in to Nick Fury?” Jessica clarified. Carol smirked. Of course Jessica knew who she was.

“That all depends,” she replied.

“On what?” asked Jessica, tensing slightly.

“If today is the day you want to be brought in to see Nick Fury,” Carol said with a shrug. Jessica chuckled without humor.

“That easy, is it?” she asked.

“With me it is. I’ll warn you though, he is in town. I can’t stop him from seeing you. He’s got a knack for just showing up,” Carol remarked.

“Why don’t you just do what he says?” asked Jessica. Carol scowled.

“Because I happen to think the worst method for encouraging defection is using the controlling bullshit your previous handlers did. Also, I’m not his pet,” Carol replied.

“No, this uniform clearly destroys that notion,” Jessica said gesturing at Carol’s outfit. Carol smiled.

“I told you before. I only kind of work for SHIELD. Jessica, I think one day you will go with Fury. You will join SHIELD. But I also believe it will happen because you want it to,” Carol responded. Jessica hummed and was quiet a while longer.

“It’s time,” Carol eventually said, engaging the autopilot.

“We have five minutes until nosedive,” said the pilot.

“Carol,” Jessica started as the went back into the cargo hold.

“Yes?”

“I need you to jump off the plane first. And I need you to leave. I’m not…I’m not going to look for you, after I jump. I need to try living on my own. I still don’t really know who I am and it’s me that needs to figure that out,” she said. To her relief and slight confusion, Carol smiled at her.

“I know. Just as long as you promise to jump off too,” she said. Jessica smiled.

“I will. You know, I can’t afford to let you down. You’re probably my only friend in the world right now,” she said. She wasn’t sure why she said it or why the thought wasn’t as dreadful as it should've been.

“In that case, you have excellent taste,” she responded with a wink. She opened the side door of the plane, hair whipping furiously around her face. An elated grin lit up her face and Jessica was reminded of sunshine and fire and reckless abandon all at once. When Carol turned that look on her, she almost swooned. Carol was breath-taking. Carol was the most alive thing Jessica had ever seen.

“We'll find each other again, Jessica Drew. You can count on it,” and before Jessica could respond Carol was out the plane and soaring through the air. Jessica went to the door, but the woman was already gone.

Shaking her head with a smile she turned back to Jared. Her grin turned predatory. She returned the smack to his face.

“Wake up Agent Jared,” she crowed. “I want you to see this.”

When Agent Jared Gold looked up, it was to see Jessica Drew drop from the plane and have exactly enough time to realize that he was about to die.

/

It turns out that Carol never needed to bring Jessica in. And that she was right. Jessica just had to be ready to want in. She can’t deny, the helicarrier is pretty cool.

As is the freedom to tell Nick Fury where he can stick his uniform policy.

She’s less thrilled when Whiplash’s cable tightens around her neck. She takes in the brutalized body of Mary Brumback splayed across the bed and loses the contents of her stomach. Mary is her mother. And in a split second, a matter of being minutes too late, she’s suddenly deprived of the chance to say all of the things she didn’t know she needed to say to the mother she could barely remember.

Her eyes fell on a suitcase, on disheveled papers.

Athena.

The word was a fresh burst of purpose.

/

Then man is easy to find. He wears his wealth in a collection of gaudy jewelry and tacky clothing. Like a pimp from the 70s. His jowls shake as he laughs. His eyes wander, greedy over the expanse of female flesh on display in the club. His hands barely restrain themselves. That sort of thing is frowned upon these days, but he misses the days where a pinch or a pat was a compliment.

Jessica tosses back a shot like it’s a lifeline. In a way it is. She needs the courage. She eyes the barkeeper and tilts her head and glass in request and she hooks Jessica up with another one, a double. That shot is gone in a flash too and she savors the burn that makes her eyes prick with tears. She leaves the bartender a generous tip as she picks up her martini.

“One of us deserves to have a good night,” she says with a wink. The bartender half smiled at Jessica, sympathy in her eyes. Like she knew. Maybe she did. Maybe Jessica was the type. Jessica hated that there might be a type. Women weren’t objects.

Jessica timed her stumble perfectly. Count Otto Vermis allows his damp pudgy hands to steady her they drag slowly up her legs to grip tightly, possessively, at her waist. She titters, pretends she just drunk enough (there’s not enough alcohol in the world to realistically make this happen). He’s instantly enthralled, his breath hot on her cheek as he leans up to tell her how beautiful she is, how dangerous it might be for her to remain unsupervised. The faintest pulse of pheromones cements his attraction to her and he’s wrapped in her web. Soon, despite the bile in her throat and her utter and complete repulsion, she lets his hands slip down the back edge of her dress, caressing her flesh, squeezing bruises into her skin.

He’s easy to manipulate. His lips slobber over her neck, hands crawl up her thighs, pulling the dress up with them as the car drives them to his yacht.

Later, on the boat, she resists the urge to throw him off of her and snap his miserable neck as he thrusts against her, into her. His body is sweaty, and hot, and suffocating. Hate swells in her heart. Nothing is worth this.

Mary Brumback’s bloody corpse flashes before her eyes. A tear sneaks out and disappears into the hair.

He grunts false platitudes about her beauty and her body and her luck at receiving his attentions. In a groan and shudder, he finishes, turning into a boneless mass of flesh. She claustrophobic. She needs out. She needs freedom. She’s going to kill him, damn everything. He plants a sloppy, unwanted kiss to her lips and rolls off of her, already asleep as he settles down. His snores fill the room.

She moves as quickly as she can without arousing his attention. She told herself she’d do what was needed, and get the information immediately. She detours for the bathroom instead. She sits in the shower, turning the water hot enough to burn. Tears of anger leak out of her eyes. She wants to burn him off of her skin.

This is _their_ fault. They stole everything, even her dignity. She lost her childhood, her mother, her body. She was a tool without a master, because they had no concept of humanity.

Eventually, when she realizes drowning in the shower isn’t an option, Jessica locks her feelings deep inside. She’d get them. She’d burn them to the fucking ground.

She manages to get the information she’s looking for. But there isn’t time to get away, there in the middle of the ocean.

And the next day, surprise of all surprises, she thrilled to see Whiplash. He knows her for what she is. A killer. A hybrid. A weapon. _Not_ Otto Vermis’ fuck doll. The expulsion of energy it takes to leap off the boat is exactly what she’d been craving. Action, intent, movement.

She feels a strange mix of gratitude and sadness for the dead shark. It’s the cover she needs, but she didn’t like the idea of hurting things that didn’t deserve it.

She allows a grin of satisfaction twist in her face as she feels the heat of the explosion on her back. She’s bleeding again. A wound on her right arm. She’s hit with a longing to see Carol that is so visceral that it almost physically doubles her over. She longs for the woman’s easy nature and respect and casual flirting. Carol looks at her like she matters, like she’s someone, not something. She wonders where Carol is and what she’s doing, if she’s safe. She doesn’t know if she has the right to wonder about Carol, but she does. She misses her. She’s met her twice, and she’s sure, so sure, that if she could just see her, and hear her laugh, Carol could fix everything.

Jessica accelerates the boat. Attachment issues she chastises herself. Of course.

/

Jessica takes the abuse from her clones. She wants them to rip her apart. She feels ribs break, a shoulder dislocate, her nose shatter. They can’t break her body more than her father has already managed to break her heart. The outside can match the inside. She’s literally fighting herself and she just needs to last long enough. This she can do. She’s been her own enemy for years. At least this way she has a choice. At least this way they burn with her. She’s not afraid of death, not if she gets to take her sisters with her. She can’t remember if there’s a Shakespearean suicide pact like that.

She wants to scream when the helicarrier flies in. Can they just let her die? Nick fucking Fury. And SHIELD. They patch her together. She resists the urge to ask about Carol. She stays in San Francisco and figures out what it means to be human.

/

When she sees the figure fall from the Golden Gate Bridge, she’s been in San Francisco for a year. She helps people and she finds that she’s good at it. Jessica Drew has powers and abilities and she gets to choose how she uses them. She can get to places and people no one else can and it feels good. She helps SHIELD on occasion. She means what she promises Nick fucking Fury- she'll never say no to him. But she likes her life, is glad she still has it.

She knows what suicidal tendencies are like. She wanted Hyrda to shoot Jared, and her. She let that oil rig blow up with her on it. She knew what having nothing left felt like. And she knew that so far, she’d been wrong. That she was glad she was still alive.

So she doesn’t think twice about gliding in to save the falling woman. The woman never hits the roiling black water of the Golden Gate because Spider-Woman is there to catch her.

She’s not letting this woman die, not matter how hard someone was trying to kill her, because plot twist, this was attempted murder. She turns and lets her back absorb the vicious smack into the icy cold water. She gasps in shock, but doesn’t let go of her charge. She swims, towing the woman with her. Either they both make it or they both die tonight.

It isn’t until Jessica has thawed out some that she realizes that her burden is Carol. Carol Susan Jane Danvers she finds out later. Turns out Carol looks good no matter what uniform she’s wearing. Recently retired from the United States Air Force at age 29 (Jessica has a momentary freak out when she realizes that Carol is seven years her senior). She also doesn’t understand how anyone is retired from the Air Force and NASA and has been an editor of a magazine all by 29 years old. But she doesn’t question it. The police don’t know the whole story. They don’t realize Carol is SHIELD or that she’s Ms. Marvel. Maybe she isn’t 29. Maybe she’s transcended time and space and rules. Jessica thinks that if anyone could, it would be Carol.

Jessica hears the words about Carol’s brain but instantly dismisses them. If she’s learned anything since waking up in a Hydra facility after a ten year coma and involuntary brain tampering, it’s that anything is possible. She calls Charles Xavier.

/

Jessica feels a surge of pride in getting to tackle Rogue to the ground. She felt a surge of nausea when she learned about Marcus. Couldn’t the Avengers _see_? Didn’t they realize something was wrong? That women didn’t want to run off and have romantic relationships with the people that fell out of their vaginas? That just because it looked like a woman was interested didn’t mean she was; sometimes looking interested was a matter of survival. Jessica seethed, angry at Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Turns out ignorance and arrogance aren’t mutually exclusive.

/

Xavier’s idea is crazy. But he promised it would help. And Carol had helped Jessica when Jessica had no one else in the entire world. And so, she let him into her mind. At first, it lasted for a second before he pulled out, staring at her bewildered.

“Jessica,” he started. She held up her hand to stop him. She was panting hard. The pain of her existence was fresh on her mind, as real as the day she learned that Hydra were terrorists and she was to be their tool.

“Professor Xavier,” she said, voice tense. She was ignoring the tears flowing freely down her face. “My life has been fucking shit. At least, the vast majority has been. But Carol, she’s been...fuck. If there has ever been any silver lining in my life, it’s her. So, just find her, okay? I know the rest sucks, you don’t have to say anything about it. You won’t miss her if you look, she’s the bright spots in here,” she finishes, tapping her head with a finger. Xavier reaches out and grasps her hand tightly.

“I’m thankful for you, Jessica Drew,” he says, with a sincerity she’s never heard from a stranger before. She quirks a smile at him. Xavier delves back into her brain. He takes the opportunity to undo Mentallo’s work. It’s a gentle tugging. Jessica realizes what he means to do and he lets her consent. Hydra is still a terrible memory. But she’s free to think unhindered thoughts of hate toward them without seeing farm animals. Charles Xavier joins the short list of people she’d do anything for.

/

When Carol opens her eyes, she looks bewildered. She’s confused for where she’s at. She sits up holding her head. Jessica Drew is sitting the hospital chair, tears streaking down her face, heaving sobs bursting from her chest. Carol doesn’t know what’s wrong yet, but she wants to fix it. A man, bald and in a wheelchair, is holding her hand, staring at her. She knows him. His name floats slowly to the surface of her memories.

“Charles...Xavier?” she asks tentatively. He smiles, relieved.

“Welcome back, Ms. Danvers,” he says. Jessica bites back a sob and scrambles out of the chair and out of the room. Xavier looks after her with some concern.

“What’s wrong, where is Jessica going?” she asked. She wanted to follow. She needed to follow. She tries to stand, but she’s weak and unused to her body.

“Carol, there have been some things that have happened. Things you may not be aware of. Please, listen to me, and allow me to explain.”

/

Jessica is calmer when she comes back into the room. She'd had to find a dark corner and stamp down her feelings and memories back to where they belonged. Xavier had pulled memories that only Jessica and Carol would’ve shared. Carol finding her on the beach, Carol finding her in London, Jessica's very enthusiastic reaction to Carol in her Ms. Marvel outfit. Carol flying the plane. The peace and reassurance she felt around Carol. He used Jessica's perspective to find Carol's perspective, stringing the memories together, putting them in the correct order, the correct context. It was the model by which the rest of Carol’s memories shaped themselves.

The unfortunate side effect was that all of Jessica's memories had been laid out. And there was a moment then, when she and Carol had been completely connected. She knew the deep seeded feelings of betrayal and hurt. Carol hated the Avengers, her “friends”. She hated that they just couldn’t see that she wasn’t herself. She felt the hurt and the depth of violation that Carol was carrying in her soul. She’d seen the choice and security that Marcus had robbed her of, that the Avengers hadn’t protected.

The door swung two ways though. And Carol knew. Xavier had warned her, warned that Carol would have access to thoughts and actions and memories and Jessica wouldn’t be able to control the connection. She would know the depths of Jessica’s own mind, the horrors she’d endured, the choices she’d made to meet her goals. The sacrifice of her own flesh. Xavier had seen the horrors of her life, and they were hers, to keep and disclose when she chose. He would not expose her so openly to Carol without her consent.

The consent had been given freely. Although Jessica appreciated the choice all the same.

“You look better awake,” Jessica says, throat scratchy. The joke is awkward and lands weirdly. Carol doesn’t comment, just asks, “Come sit?” And Jessica finds that if she’ll never tell Nick Fury no on principle, she never wants to deny Carol anything, ever. She resumes her seat.

Carol _does_ look better. Physically, she's returned to normal, her half Kree DNA happy to restore her to optimum health. She swings her legs off the side of the bed to look at Jessica. Jessica thinks that Carol Danvers looks good in anything.

Carol scrutinizes her.

“You left out pretty quickly just then,” Carol says calmly. Jessica lets out a shaky laugh.

“Yeah, I was feeling a little exposed,” she said. Carol quirked an eyebrow. It was flirtatious and Jessica found it reassuring. If Carol could still tease and be lighthearted, they could get through all of the shit. Maybe.

“Yeah, but it was a little less naked in the window and a little more live wire,” she responded. Carol laughed softly and Jessica couldn’t help her smile.

“I told you we'd find each other again,” Carol remarked lightly. Jessica lets out a laugh that was also a sob accompanied by a smile.

“God, I'm sorry. I swear I haven't been this insane since the last time you saw me,” Jessica sniffed. Carol chuckled.

“I've never thought you were insane,” Carol said. Jessica scowled at her in disbelief and Carol rolled her eyes.

“Okay, fine. I did think that no self respecting, sane superhero would wear the top part of your uniform, when your hair was covered up. You looked like a flying nipple,” Carol said. And at this, Jessica burst out laughing, unburdened by tears or sorrow. Carol wanted to listen to that sound forever.

“Xavier is orchestrating my escape from here. I've agreed to go back to New York with him for awhile. I know I have no right to ask. And you've already done so much for me, but I was hoping you might come with me? I understand if you're busy here, but I just thought it might be nice to spend more than a few hours at a time together and” Carol stopped speaking when Jessica stood up and walked to stand in front of her. She grabbed a lock of Carol’s hair, wrapping it around a finger. Carol’s hands rested against the outside of Jessica’s thighs.

“I would love to go to New York with you. You're my only friend in the world, remember?” she said. Carol stood up so they were looking each other in the eye.

“Jessica, you're my best friend in the world,” she said. She wrapped her arms around Jessica’s neck and Jessica's instinctively wrapped around Carol's waist. It was like being wrapped in a sunbeam. Jessica wants more, wants to sink into Carol and never, ever surface again. That would be the way to go.

“Thank you for saving me Jess,” she said quietly.

“Thank you for saving me first,” Jessica whispered back.

/

Jessica waits just long enough to hear the quinjet depart before she’s moving back outside. Carol’s not on the pool deck anymore but Jessica finds she has no issues tracking her into the manor. She’s in a quite reading room, sobbing while she watches the Avengers fly away, leaning against the window frame.

“Oh, baby,” Jessica murmurs before stepping into the room. Her arms are barely open before Carol is falling into them. She sobs, angry, harsh sobs into Jessica’s neck and shoulder. Jessica has an arm and hand wrapped around Carol’s head and the other tightly around her back. She presses her lips to Carol’s temple and kisses it repeatedly, and whispering. _I’m here. I’m sorry. You’re not alone._ _I won’t leave you. You’re loved._ She cries too, a show of sympathy for all that Carol has lost, all that was taken from her.

Jessica isn’t sure how long the embrace lasts. But when Carol’s finished, she’s wiped out. Jessica carries her to her room. Carol musters the will power to pull Jessica into the bed with her. Jessica can’t deny Carol anything. Jessica holds Carol and reminds her over and over, everything is going to be okay.

/

Weeks later they’re back in San Francisco. Jessica is back to work and so is Carol. She’s writing again. And they occasionally work for Nick fucking Fury. They have different apartments, but they rarely stay at one without the other present. There are movie nights and dinner and flying and coffee. There’s Carol narrating movie facts as they marathon watch _Star Wars._ Jessica gets to squeal over pictures of Carol as a new Air Force recruit. Carol learns that Jessica likes to read paperback mystery novels but doesn’t want anyone to know she likes to read paperback mystery novels. She likes to sit up and watch the rain. Carol learns that Jessica chews on pen caps while she pours over the crossword and has sarcasm down to a fine art. They are locked into a constant competition for who is more willing to throw themselves headfirst into danger. Jessica secretly loves Chewie, mostly because she likes that cats don’t give a shit on whether you like them or not. Carol tells Jessica about Marcus. About her whirlwind pregnancy, about Limbo. Jessica tells her about Otto Vermis. They bleed out the poison.

After weeks of insistence from Carol, Jessica Drew meets Natasha Romanoff. Jessica is uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the Black Widow. She looks at Jessica with an expression that suggests she knows exactly what Jessica is going to say or do next. She looks at Jessica Drew like she knows everything. Like she knows that sometimes Jessica wakes up screaming and confused. Like she knows that on her darkest days, Jessica still, infrequently, occasionally thinks about ending it all. Knows that Jessica won’t. Perhaps more frightening than the confident, quiet omniscience, is the sense that the Black Widow understands her in a way that needs no explaining. Jessica thinks, fleetingly, that they’re cut from the same cloth. She’s heard the stories. Hydra, the Red Room. It’s all the same. Jessica feels like Natasha just knows.

This is impression that she gets after just a cup of coffee on a quiet fall afternoon in San Francisco.

The impression is confirmed on a mission two weeks later, in Estonia. While their informal meeting wasn’t intended to be a prelude to something more, SHIELD did not like to waste opportunity.

They’re infiltrating a terrorist organization that managed a super-soldier serum. It wasn’t a perfect cocktail, and no where near as elegant as Captain America’s brew. The cost of super strength and endurance here was a firm grip on reality. Jessica couldn’t feel pride in killing people who thought she was a monster. Her compassion did, however, wane in the wake of knife wounds to the thigh, back, and ribs.

Natasha Romanoff, it turns out, is a very capable field medic. Calm as a lake on a still day. She’s also more Russian than Jessica has the patience to tolerate, and makes her protests colorfully known when Natasha somehow manages to produce a bottle of vodka to sterilize wounds.

“Romanoff, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Jessica shrieks when the liquid burns into her thigh. Natasha slaps a hand over Jessica’s mouth and presses a bandage to the bloody wound. Despite her indignation, Jessica’s hand responds to press down on it when Natasha’s prompts her.

“Deep breath, darling, this one will be worse,” Natasha replied and wastes no time in waiting for Jessica to be ready before pouring the liquid onto Jessica’s ribs. Jessica’s scream is muffled by Natasha’s hand and to the Widow’s credit, she doesn’t flinch when she feels Jessica’s teeth bite into her hand. Jessica’s face is scarlet under her mask and angry tears are leaking from her eyes. Hot breaths escape from her nostrils.

“Jessica, I know this isn’t the worst that’s ever been done to you,” Natasha says. Her tone is light, unaccusatory. There isn’t even an admonition, just a simple statement of facts. Jessica calmed enough to unlatch and say, “of course not. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.”

“Of course it does. You’ve got to admit, though, compared to the brainwashing and memory scrambling, this is more like an minor irritation, _nyet_?” she asked. Jessica gaped at her for a second before shaking her head.

“You know what, you’re right. I’ll take this over the brain fuck any day of the week,” she admitted. Natasha quirked a half smile. “See, circumstance is all a matter of perspective.”

“Well aren’t you just a regular fortune cookie,” Jessica grumbled.

“My wisdom is yours, now lean forward,” Natasha ordered. Jessica complied and muffled her howl of pain in Natasha’s shoulder.

“A patch job is all we can do now. Evac should be here soon,” Natasha said, easing Jessica back against the wall of their shelter. Jessica gave a weak thumbs up.

“Are you happy Jessica? Or at least satisfied?” Natasha asked. Jessica looked at her with bleary eyes.

“Like right now?” Natasha laughed. She did a quick scan of the surroundings. Their hiding place hadn’t been found and the crap serum was still in their possession.

“No, little spider. In general. With your life,” Natasha asked. She took the opportunity to reload her weapons, checking ammunition levels and the sureness of their gear. Jessica thought about her answer. She smiled a little.

“Yeah, I think I am. Especially since the alternative was Hydra,” she remarks. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“I’m not talking about barely getting by, surviving. Or the kill or be killed by your past nonsense. Are you thriving? Do you like your work? Do you make a difference? Are you and Carol happy? Is getting cut up in a warehouse across the world worth it? Are-”

“Carol and I aren’t together like that,” Jessica blurts, suddenly queasy and nervous. Natasha looks at her with an eyebrow quirked, mild surprise coloring her features before fading.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting on something,” was all she said, nonchalantly looking at her communicator. Jessica’s eyes widened and she was about to retort when Natasha held up her hand for silence.

“Evac is here. I’m going to facilitate a very quick distraction and then come pick you up, _da_?” and before Jessica could respond she was alone and fuming with her thoughts. An explosion sounded across the warehouse. She was lurching to her feet when Natasha returned. She tried to reject the Widow’s assistance put Natasha simply swept Jessica’s injured leg from under her (“my fucking god, I’m going to kill you!”) and caught her so Jessica didn’t have a choice.

“I’m not sure why you’re so upset, unless of course you’re wanting to be with her and aren’t for some reason,” Natasha said matter-of-factly. She maneuvered them to the roof easily, shooting any attackers as though she wasn’t supporting Jessica’s weight and all their gear. Jessica fumed in silence.

/

“Go out with me?” Jessica asked, grabbing onto Carol’s wrist. She’d flown the evac jet and Natasha had opted to fly back, leaving Carol to tend to Jessica. Carol looked at Jessica with bewilderment.

“Jessica, we go out all the time. We’re still getting food when we get back,” Carol said. By now, she had a good grasp on how quickly Jessica’s healing capabilities worked with the right prompting.

“No, I mean, out out. Like on a date. With me. If you want to. If you’re interested,” Jessica said in a rush. She was looking up at Carol with so much open wanting that it hurt. If Carol said no now, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Damn the Black Widow and her stupid mind games, and knife wounds, and…

“Yeah. Okay. I’d really like that,” Carol said, kneeling down so she was closer to Jessica on the medical bed. Relief flooded Jessica’s system like a drug. Her grin threatened to break her face.

“That easy, is it?” Jessica asked. Carol grinned, remembering a different plane trip.

“With me it is. All you had to do was ask, you know. It’s not like I haven’t been dropping clues since forever,” Carol teased lightly. Jessica pulled her closer her thumb caressing under Carol’s eye, over her cheek.

“I didn’t realize you were interested,” Carol closed the distance and kissed Jessica and Jessica’s world exploded and excitement and happiness burst in her chest like a firework. Carol pulled back, a smile like the sunrise on her face.

“In that case, you might actually be the world’s worst detective, Jessica Drew.”

“Oh, fuck you Carol!” Jessica exclaimed. Carol captured her lips in a searing kiss that wiped away pain and reality and everything that wasn't Carol.

“Later, Jessica Drew,” Carol breathed into her mouth before retreating to the front of the jet before a bewildered and boarder line wrecked Jessica could find the words to respond.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammatical errors.


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